Blackjack
by thebronzesickle
Summary: Rose Weasley does not have a gambling problem. Scorpius Malfoy *might* play ukulele. RosexScorpius. Schoolfic


Scorpius Malfoy, heir to the glorious and disgraced House of Malfoy, sixth year Gryffindor prefect adjusted the ukulele on his back and hurried through the halls. He had been called to a meeting with headmaster Longbottom for no apparent reason, and was nervous as hell. Had the Headmaster found out about the firewhiskey at the last Gryff quidditch victory party? Scorpius had thought about confiscating it, but decided that personal safety was probably worth more than prefect exceptionalism. Those quidditch partiers were _really _attached to their firewhiskey. The last time he had said anything about it, Lizzie Spinnet had turned his ears into cabbages. Surely Professor Longbottom knew of the Gryffindor party spirit? What if he didn't? Were his privileges going to be revoked? Dear God, what if they expelled him for negligence?

He walked slower, hoping to postpone his fate. A female voice spoke up ahead.

"Oh go on, Clearwa'er, yeh're a Claw! Give it five Galleons, there's a lad! Makes it more fun, eh? House pride an' all that, righ'? I'll match you, an' then yeh can say yeh beat the nasty Slytherin out of all 'er money!"

"Come off it, Weasley, you're much too eager. Slytherin, yeah? Resourcefulness? Not above cheating, your House?"

"Yeh're a right bastard, Clearwa'er. Tell yeh what, we can use Sneakoscopes an' all. Go on, Summon away! I'll put an extra Galleon in if'n yeh can do it nonverbal."

Weasley? Rose Weasley? Prefect and beloved daughter of two members of the Golden Trio? _Gambling? _

What an interesting development. Scorpius decided to stick around a while longer. For academic purposes, of course. He certainly was not trying to delay his meeting with the Headmaster. Or find out more about Rose Weasley. And her wonderful laugh. And her freckles. Oh, God, her freckles. Of course not. He was just curious. This in mind, he leaned against a wall near to the alcove from whence the gamblers were playing.

"Righ' then," Rose was saying. "Got tha' all set up to yeh're satisfaction? Not scared of the cheatin' snakes?"

"No Rose, I am not scared of the 'cheating snakes.'"

"Rose, is it? What, yeh fallin for me? Knew I'd get you in the end, Peter."

Peter Clearwater did a bit of incoherent spluttering.

"I knew it, Peter. I knew it. No one can resis' a redhead. Let's get on then, shall we? I'm dealin', then?"

Scorpius tuned out a bit at this point. He was completely unfamiliar with muggle games. It appeared that Rose won a substantial amount of money from Peter Clearwater with something called a "Black Jack". Scorpius was confused. He knew of no one called Black Jack. Perhaps this was someone in the muggle world. He deemed it prudent to tear himself from the wonders of Rose Weasley's voice and head to his meeting with the professor at that point, as he was very nearly late.

He sprinted his way to the Headmaster's office, only to have Professor Longbottom stick his head out the door and say "Oh, Mr. Malfoy. Sorry, a bit busy at the moment. Urgent message from my grandmother. Would you mind waiting a few moments?"

"Not at all, Professor," Scorpius gasped.

"Excellent. I'll be right with you. Do sit down." He shut the door.

Scorpius sank onto the bench outside and ran his fingers through his curly hair. Damn. More waiting. Could this be an intimidation technique? He'd read about those in muggle sci-fi novels. He bit his lip nervously.

What was taking so long? Was the headmaster perhaps preparing veritaserum?

_Shut up! It was just firewhiskey._

Scorpius's thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of the short, gingery form of Rose Weasley. No wonder she won people's Galleons so easily. She was tiny, barely a meter and a half in height, and incredibly innocent looking, with her heaps of freckles and bright blue eyes. Eyes as deep as oceans. Eyes so deep you could drown-

_Shut. Up._

"All righ', Malfoy?"

Scorpius jumped. His musings about Rose Weasley had caused him to forget her actual presence.

"Oh, er, hi. You know my name?"

"'Course I do. Scorpius Malfoy. Curly hair, that in itself a smack in the face to family tradition. Unpredicted Gryff with the ukulele. Bloody adorable, aren' yeh?"

"What?"

She laughed. "Yeh all right, then? Yeh looked sort of nervous."

"Oh yeah, see, I'm supposed to be meeting with the head prof and he didn't tell me what for and I'm sort of worried that it's about that last Gryffindor quidditch party and certain debaucheries that may have occurred therein."

"I see. I'd be worried too, 'cept we don' really do parties in the snake house. I hope that goes well for yeh."

"Er, thanks." He nibbled his lip nervously.

"I could bite that for yeh, if yeh like."

"You...what?"

She nodded towards his mouth.

He looked at her, and then clapped a hand over his mouth with a sort of terrified expression.

Rose smiled wickedly. It was...kind of sexy.

_OH MY GOD SHUT UP_

"I...Not sure what kind of reply you're expecting to that, to be honest."

"Me either. Thought it would be fun. Yeh're even more adorable when yeh blush."

This of course, caused a dramatic increase in the blushing. How did she do these things? Why was she so straight faced?

"Anyhow," said Rose, "yeh got a date for Hogsmeade?"

He shook his head mutely.

"Excellent! Be mine, then? I can help yeh with the lip situation and we can laugh at people when their jaws drop. Go on, it'll be fun!"

"Er, Rose?"

She smiled brilliantly. "Yes, Scorpius?"

"Why? Why me? Why now?"

"Well, Scorpius Malfoy, 'ere's the thing. People grow up, and once they get over the whole 'Why the bloody 'ell am I a Slytherin?' thing, they start to realize that maybe legacies ought t'die. An' yeh know what else? As I sit musin', I occasionally think to meself, 'What's the bravest bloody thing I've ever seen?' And the answer is 'An eleven year old son of a war villain walkin' into a school knowin' that he is going to be detested for no fault of his own, and that he'll probably get the mickey taken out of him a few dozen times before he proves his own. Tha's why, Scorpius. Also, yeh're hair is pretty hot. Meet me in the entrance hall at nine, yeah?"

He nodded. She smiled _that smile _once more and turned around.

"Hey Rose?" he called after her.

She turned around. "Yeah?"

"Do you have a gambling problem?"

Rose marched right up to him and fixed him with a deadly glare. "Scorpius Malfoy. Were't that I din't like yeh so much, I'd hex yeh into oblivion. No, I d'not have a gamblin' problem, an' there is nothin' wrong with usin' the talents I have t' fleece upstart Claws ou' of their pocket money. I find i' rather rich of yeh to even suggest-WHY ARE YEH SMIRKIN' AT ME?"

"You're accent gets a lot worse when you're angry." He threw all common sense to the wind and added "It's pretty sexy."

_HOW ARE THESE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH? I'm insane. Bloody insane._

She gaped at him for a moment, and then looped an arm around his neck and kissed the smirk right off his face.

_OH BLOODY HELL WHAT AGH ROSE whatisshedoingwithhertongue_

He wound his fingers into her crazy-ginger-hair as she pushed him up against a wall-quite a feat in so tiny a person. She had just caught his bottom lip between her teeth and was about to-

"Mother of Mugwort!"

They jumped apart to find Professor Longbottom gaping at them.

"Sorry Professor!" exclaimed Rose. "Sexual frustration an' all tha', yeh know."

"Hers," added Scorpius.

She glared at him. "Do I need to do tha' again to remind yeh exactly wha' sort of sexual-"

"Right, Miss Weasley, that will be all. If you please, Mr. Malfoy?" said Professor Longbottom, gesturing towards his office with a sort of barely-restrained professionalism.

"Of course, sir."

He glanced over his shoulder to see Rose glowering at him. "An' don' you bloody forget it, Scorpius Malfoy. Gamblin' problems, honestly," she muttered

He grinned at her.

Forget? Not bloody likely.

**A/N**

**SO FRIENDS! This story was in my head. It needed to go places, kill things, etc. It's quite late, and I really ought to be asleep, but this happened. ANYWAYS, please review. I will love you forever, and I know how important the love of an anonymous stranger is to you :) Criticism is a lovely thing, but I don't actually care about the literary value of fics I write in the middle of the night...so yeah. Want another chapter? PRESS THE FRIENDLY LITTLE BUTTON!**

**Note: Rose insisted on having an Irish accent. I don't understand. We regret nothing.**

**Other Note: Rose and Peter were playing blackjack. I know nothing about blackjack, except for what I read for ten minutes on Wikipedia. Oops.**

**-bronzesickle**


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